


Maybe if you're good

by othersideofthis (hikaru)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2013-2014 NHL Season, Daddy Kink, M/M, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 22:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6169450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaru/pseuds/othersideofthis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jeff catches Tyler’s eyes, Tyler blushes, sure, but he also grins, slouches in his stall, spreads his legs a little wider, one hand coming to rest high on his own thigh.</p><p>Jeff drops his head, blinks, and when he looks back up, Tyler’s turned away, elbowing Tanner in the ribs, laughing about something. Like nothing at all happened.</p><p>And that’s how it starts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe if you're good

**Author's Note:**

> this started life as a bonus treat for someone for one of the holiday exchanges; I've now lost track of who that person is, so enjoy, all of you. 
> 
> thanks to twitter for making me finish this, and lizzy for catching my typos.

It’s not like Jeff set out to make this happen.

It’s not like he took his chances in the locker room and _picked_.

It’s not like _he_ went looking.

 

*

 

Tyler _looks_ , though, in a way that Jeff recognizes almost immediately. Jeff did his fair share of looking, back before he learned what exactly he could and couldn’t get away with. Jeff learned the hard way, ground down in Philadelphia’s locker room, just what it meant to look for too long.

Los Angeles is different. Times are different.

Tyler’s different.

When Jeff catches Tyler’s eyes, Tyler blushes, sure, but he also grins, slouches in his stall, spreads his legs a little wider, one hand coming to rest high on his own thigh.

Jeff drops his head, blinks, and when he looks back up, Tyler’s turned away, elbowing Tanner in the ribs, laughing about something. Like nothing at all happened.

And that’s how it starts.

 

*

 

Tanner doesn’t _look_ , not the way Tyler does, brash and unafraid.

Instead, Tanner peeks from under his towel, and Jeff knows that move. Jeff spent years perfecting that move.

Tanner lets his eyes track some of the guys in the room -- it’s always the older guys, Jeff realizes, guys like Mike and Willie and Justin, who Tanner looks at a little longer. He never looks long enough to get caught by anyone else all that often. He’s good, Jeff’s got to admit. A little more circumspect than Jeff was ever smart enough to be.

Tyler, though. Tyler looks like he’s trouble for Tanner.  Tanner watches him like he hung the moon and the stars sometimes. Every day, Tyler sidles up next to him, pulls the towel away, follows his gaze across the room, smiles.

Tyler’s the one whispering in Tanner’s ear, Tyler’s the one making Tanner blush and squirm as they’re crowded together on the bench, his arm slung across Tanner’s shoulders.

Even seated together, Tanner pretends not to look while Tyler stares openly at Jeff. Whatever he’s saying to Tanner, his whispered words hidden as he turns his face into Tanner’s hair, gets Tanner to look up in surprise.

Both of them watch Jeff -- Tanner, curious; Tyler, far more predatory than he should be able to make his face look -- and that’s when Jeff realizes he’s probably in trouble.

 

*

 

If Jeff notices what Tyler and Tanner are up to, that means at least one other guy on the team has, too.

“The kids like you,” Mike says, coming into the room early at morning skate. He taps Jeff’s shins with his stick before sinking down into the stall across from him.

Jeff snorts. “They like all the vets,” he says. “Pretty sure Pearson’s got your Kitchener jersey somewhere. Game worn, I bet.” He strips out of his practice jersey and hurls it towards the laundry cart. “Probably fucking sleeps in it.”

Mike peels out of his own jersey, dropping it at his feet, then works on unstrapping his pads. “Maybe. But that’s not what I mean.” Mike jerks his shoulder pads over his head, hangs them up on the hook in the stall.

“The kids _like_ you,” Mike repeats. He slouches back, legs spread wide. The subtlety of the gesture is lost given that Mike’s still in half his gear; even so, despite a lack of finesse, the way he lets his fingers trail up his thighs is unmistakeable.

“Stop it.” Jeff starts pulling off his pads so he doesn’t have to look at Mike mimicking Tyler. “It’s not like that.”

Mike sprawls out a little further, tugs at the tie of his pants. “I’ve heard that one before.”

The grin on Mike’s face is a little much, very cat-ate-the-canary, and Jeff frowns. “They’re kids, like you said. Whatever it is, they’ll get over it.”

Mike laughs, pushes his hands through his hair. “I’ve heard that one before, too, Carts.”

Jeff looks away, down at his skates. He really _has_ perfected that move over the years. He shakes his head, says nothing as he pulls at the laces.

In the hallway, he hears the rise and fall of other voices; some of the other vets have called it a day on practice, too.

Mike’s hand falls heavy on the back of Jeff’s neck, squeezes. “Don’t get in trouble,” Mike says before letting go. When Jeff looks up, Mike’s already gone.

 

*

 

Tyler and Tanner stick close to the other guys who came up through Manchester most of the time. Jeff gets that; he never had to deal with the up-and-down like these kids, but once, years ago, he shadowed the guys he knew from the Phantoms until he found his footing in the big show.  But Tanner and Tyler are constants, inseparable, no matter who else is up with the team.

If he had to put money on it, he’d guess they’re fucking. It’s all over Tanner’s face, first off, and even if it wasn’t, then it’s in the possessive clutch of Tyler’s fingers around Tanner’s wrist. It’s in the way Tanner curls into Tyler off the ice, and crashes into him at full speed on it, eyes bright and smile wide.

Jeff doesn’t care. Good for them. Good for those kids. Good for -- well, good for whatever the fuck they’re doing.

It’s 2014. They can fuck if they want.

It explains a lot if they are, honestly.

But there’s still a lot it doesn’t explain: Tyler snagging Jeff by the back of the jersey, keeping Jeff in place, right between him and Tanner while the rest of the lines rotate through their two-on-one rushes.

Tanner, doing his peek-from-under-the-towel thing while Jeff stretches and wipes the sweat from his face.

It doesn’t explain Tyler, arm locked around Tanner’s waist, cornering Jeff in a restaurant. “Where are you going?” Tyler asks. The tips of his fingers are in Tanner’s front pocket and Jeff looks away, fussing with the brim of his hat. The rest of the team is a few booths down, far enough not to notice anything, but too close for comfort.

“Home,” he says. “It’s late, I’m old.” Jeff slides the ball cap on, shakes out his wrists. He lost track of the number of times he’d gotten hacked at that night, but he’s feeling it now.

“Huh.” Tyler reaches out, circles his fingers around Jeff’s wrist, right where it throbs. “You should stay out some time,” he says. He keeps his fingers there and Jeff stares, because at least it means he’s not watching the way Tanner’s shirt’s come untucked, rucking up underneath Tyler’s grip on him. “Stay out sometime with us, with me and Pears. You could, you know.”

“Yeah,” Tanner says, barely audible. “You always go.” He lists against Tyler; Jeff can’t tell if he’s drunk or exhausted or just wants to be closer to Tyler. Maybe it’s all three. “Stay out sometime. It’d be --” He bits his lip, fishes for a word. “Nice.”

Tyler bumps his hip into Tanner’s. “Nice? Shit, Pears, seriously? This is your best game?” He rolls his eyes, turns back to Jeff. “Yeah,” he says, smirking. “It’d be _nice_. We’d make it worth it.”

Jeff tries to smile. It hurts his face. “You don’t want that,” he says. He’s trying to pretend that he doesn’t know what they’re asking for, but even so, he’s positive they’re mistaken.

“Hm.” Tyler’s hand works deeper into Tanner’s pocket. “Don’t be so sure.”

“I’m.” Jeff jerks one hand over his shoulder, in the direction of the door. “I’m going to, just.” He takes a step back. “Go.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Tyler says. He winks. He fucking _winks_. Jeff is too old for this shit.

 

*

 

Tanner slides up next to him in the change room, and that’s odd, because Tanner’s missing his shadow. Tyler’s still out on the ice; Tanner snuck off early, which he’ll get an endless amount of shit for later, Jeff imagines.

“Do you have a minute? Can we?” Tanner asks. “Can I?”

Jeff sits there in his boxers, towel draped around his shoulders. Tanner’s already mostly dressed. “Ask a full question, kid,” he says, and Tanner flushes.

Tanner clears his throat. “What Ty said, the other week?” He fidgets with his shirtsleeves, still unbuttoned. “About you, and. Well.”

Jeff’s quiet. Jeff intends to wait Tanner out. Besides, he feels like if he says anything, he’s going to spook him.

“What he said. I mean. Sometimes, when Ty wants something, he just… He doesn’t quit, you know? It’s just like when he’s out on the ice, he’s gonna go for it.” Tanner digs his fingers into his thighs. “I’ve never -- Ty and I are -- he’s better at that than me.” He looks up at Jeff, cracks a shaky smile. “So sometimes when I want something, Ty, he wants to make sure I get it.” Tanner points his bare feet, big toe pressing against the floor. “And when we both want the same thing, that makes it easier.”

All because no one else is in the room doesn’t make this conversation _safe._ But these kids, they have more guts than Jeff ever did, that’s for sure. “What are you trying to tell me?”

Tanner curls his toes under, cracks the joints, rotates his ankles, cracks them, too. “I’m trying to say, you should stay out with me and Ty sometime.”  He stands up, finally buttons his sleeves. Rises up on his toes; his ankles pop again and Jeff winces. “Or we can…” Tanner bites his lip, looks down. There’s a pink flush down his neck, peeking out under his unbuttoned collar. “We don’t have to go out at all, is what I mean.”

Jeff leans back in his stall, exhales. He wishes he were wearing more clothes for this conversation, but maybe that was Tanner’s plan. Maybe Tyler’s not the only devious one here.  “Jesus,” he says, looking up at the ceiling. “You’re not subtle, neither of you.”

Tanner shrugs. “Ty says being subtle isn’t going to get us anywhere with you.”

Jeff barks a laugh at that, then presses his hands against his face. He suspects when Mike told him not to get in trouble, maybe this isn’t the kind of trouble Mike was anticipating. “We’ll see,” is all he says. Jeff peeks out between his fingers to see Tanner’s reaction.

Tanner’s eyes are wide; his teeth are pressing hard into his lower lip. He breathes for a moment, each breath sharp and shallow, before he speaks. “Maybe if I’m good?” His voice is soft; it costs him something to say it at all, but also to say it to Jeff, like that, right now.

Jeff lifts his eyebrows. “Sure. Maybe if you’re good,” he agrees. If this is Tanner’s game, he can play along with it.

Tanner beams.

Jeff, not for the first time, begins to think that he’s in over his head with these two.

 

*

 

Jeff wouldn’t call himself superstitious. He doesn’t have time to worry about taping his sticks the same way every game, or remembering to wear the same tie when he’s on a point streak, like some other people he knows. But he does like to stick to the same routine, down to the same parking spot when he gets to TSC for morning skate.

Tyler’s parked next to Jeff’s normal spot, which is unusual, but even moreso is the fact that Tyler’s leaning up against the hood of his own car when Jeff pulls in.

“Morning,” Tyler calls out as soon as Jeff’s out of his car.

Jeff grunts, goes around to the back to grab his bag. It’s early, and Tyler’s energy is almost always exhausting.

Tyler plasters himself up against the back of Jeff’s car before he can pop the back open. “Tanner said something to you?”

“Mm.” Jeff nudges at Tyler’s shoulder, trying to push him out of the way. “He did.”

Tyler ignores the push. “Tanner picked you, you know. I told him, when we both figured we were staying up. Anyone he wanted to get with, we could do it. But you. He likes the way you talk to him.”

Jeff goes still. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tyler tugs the brim of his hat lower over his eyes. His curls spill out in tangles around the edges of the cap. Jeff finds himself wanting to grab hold of them, keep Tyler in place right there in the parking lot; he balls his hands into fists instead. “You’re firm with him. You tell him what to do.”

“So does Richie.” Jeff puts his hands on Tyler’s shoulders, moves him aside so he can open up the back of his car. “And you’re not propositioning him, yeah?”

Tyler shrugs. “Tanner was super clear. He’s into -- everything.” He gestures at Jeff, waving his hands to sketch out the rough outline of Jeff’s body in the air. “He likes guys like you. Put your weight into it, keep him in place. Tell him he’s doing good, get him going. Yeah? It’s gotta be you.”

Jeff shakes his head. He didn’t think he’d ever be spending this much time thinking about what a kid like Tanner Pearson likes in bed. “We’ll see,” he says again, shouldering his bag and pushing past Tyler.

 

*

 

“What do you want from me?” Jeff asks Tanner. He’s been thinking all week about what Tyler and Tanner both said. He probably shouldn’t be asking Tanner anything, let alone _this_ , with most of their teammates clustered around the pool table on the other side of the room, celebrating after an easy win at home.

Jeff stands too close, he thinks, too close to Tanner, and for all that Tanner shrinks up against the wall, he’s drawing Jeff closer, letting himself get boxed in.

“I told you,” Tanner says. “Ty told you, too.”

Jeff sets one hand flat against the wall, just to the left of Tanner’s hip. “I don’t understand.”

Tanner tips his chin up, meets Jeff’s eyes. “Do I need to write it out for you?”

Jeff doesn’t say anything, but he does take a look over at the rest of the guys, absorbed in their pool game, before pressing his other hand to Tanner’s chest. He leans in, using his weight to pin Tanner there.

“Come on,” Tanner sighs out. “Haven’t I been good?” He licks his lips and presses up into Jeff’s hand. “Didn’t you promise, if I was good?”

Jeff tries to read Tanner like they’re making a play, like Jeff’s got the puck on his stick and is waiting for the right moment to pass. “I did. And you have been -- been real good,” he says. He spreads his fingers out against Tanner’s chest and Tanner closes his eyes. “Got a goal and everything, tonight, didn’t you?”

Tanner smiles, nods. “It was your assist,” he says. Tanner lifts one hand, circles his fingers lightly around Jeff’s wrist, lets his thumb slide along the inside of Jeff’s wrist.

“It was a very good goal, kid.” Jeff watches Tanner smile, content with Jeff’s praise. It makes Jeff feel warm, like something’s come loose in his chest. “Playing real well. I like having you on my left, you know. I’m proud of you.”

“Do I get anything for it?” Tanner’s fingers go still against Jeff’s wrist.

Jeff pushes Tanner, just a bit, hard enough to see Tanner’s smile get wider. “Go collect Tyler,” he says, nodding back at the rest of the guys. “You know where I live.”

 

*

 

Jeff has to admit he’s not exactly sure what to do with himself while he waits for Tanner and Tyler to show up. It’s not like he’s done this before, brought home two teammates. Is he supposed to light candles? Take out the recycling? Should he make the bed before they get here? Grab some beer? Wine? Does he need to skip right to hard liquor?

He’s standing in the hallway, completely immobilized by indecision, when the doorbell rings.

“Shit,” Jeff says out loud as he goes to the door. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Hi,” Tyler says when Jeff swings open the door. He’s up on his tiptoes, his chin resting on Tanner’s shoulder. “Did you miss us?”

Jeff smiles, despite himself. With the two of them in front of him, he suddenly feels more relaxed, like he can guess a little better what the next play should be. He reaches out, hooks his fingers in Tanner’s belt, and pulls. “Get inside.”

They all look at each other for a long moment after Jeff closes the door. Jeff clears his throat. “So,” he says, looking between Tanner and Tyler. “Can I get you--”

He’s cut off by Tyler, who steps up, slides his fingers into Jeff’s hair and kisses him. Tyler’s softer than Jeff thought he’d be. He’s also good at this, far better than Jeff was expecting. Tyler licks into his mouth with a practiced ease that catches Jeff off guard.

Jeff rests his hands on Tyler’s hips, content to let Tyler set the pace, but there’s another set of hands in the mix: Tanner’s, worming between Jeff and Tyler, to tug at the knot of Jeff’s tie.

Tanner leans in, noses at Tyler’s neck. “Hey. Ty. Share.”

Tyler pulls away and it’s only due to a very small sense of self-preservation that Jeff avoids making a needy noise, doesn’t chase after Tyler’s mouth. “I don’t know, Pears,” Tyler says. “Tell Carts how much you deserve this.”

Tanner shudders, turns his face towards Jeff. “Please,” he says. “You said I was good. I’ve been so patient, and I haven’t pushed, and I’ve been working hard to stay in the lineup, and -- can’t I just, please --”

“Hey.” Jeff reaches out, pulls Tanner closer. Tyler shuffles aside to make room, slipping his arm around Tanner’s waist to keep him in place. “Hey, come on. I’ve got you. You’re here, aren’t you?”

Tanner nods, lets Jeff reel him in. He looks so young, Jeff thinks, so innocent, despite the fact that he’s been covertly eyeing Jeff up since he first arrived from Manchester. Jeff slides one hand across Tanner’s cheek, tips his face up.

“I’ve got you,” Jeff murmurs against Tanner’s mouth. Tanner opens up beneath him, goes soft and pliant as Jeff kisses him. Jeff wonders just how far he could push Tanner, if he wanted to. If he could get him to go to his knees right here at the front door. If he could get Tanner to wait, while Jeff traded kisses with Tyler. Tanner’s already begging. Jeff thinks he could get Tanner to do just about anything.

“Come on,” he says, almost reluctantly. “Let’s--” He gestures at the staircase. “Upstairs.”

Tanner and Tyler follow him up to the bedroom. Jeff’s past shyness now, past his initial nerves, and starts peeling out of his clothes as soon as the door’s shut.

Tyler’s halfway to stepping out of his pants when he looks up and sees Jeff. “Shit,” Tyler says, watching Jeff strip out of his shirt. “You’re so--”

Jeff’s hands pause at his belt. “You look all the time,” he says. “It’s not like--”

Tyler shrugs. “But I don’t ever get to--” He takes in Jeff, all of him, with an appreciative gaze, then steps forward to stand in front of him. “I can’t ever do this in the room.” He runs his hands down Jeff’s bare chest, over his abs. Tyler’s hands are freezing and Jeff shivers. “Help me out, Pears.”

Tanner pushes Jeff’s hands off of his belt and undoes it himself, eases Jeff’s pants down over his hips. He follows the motion down, sinks to his knees in front of Jeff. “May I?” Tanner asks, fingers curled in the elastic of Jeff’s boxers.

He’s looking up at Jeff through his eyelashes and Jeff knows he couldn’t possibly say no. “So polite,” Jeff says and Tanner grins. Jeff’s starting to get an idea of exactly what Tanner needs to hear. “Yeah, go on.”

Tanner pushes Jeff’s boxers down, then skims his fingers along Jeff’s dick, the gesture soft and slow, like he’s trying to memorize the feel of Jeff’s body under his hand. “You don’t have to be so careful.” Jeff reaches down, curls Tanner’s hand around him. “I’m not going to break. I’m not going to bite.”

“He might like that,” Tyler interjects. He’s stripped out of his clothes and taken his place behind Tanner. “Wouldn’t you?” He threads his fingers through Tanner’s hair, tugs his head back.

“Maybe,” Tanner breathes out, but the gleam in his eyes most certainly says _yes_.

“Is this how it always goes with you two?” Jeff asks. He uses Tanner’s hand to stroke himself, until Tanner gets the hang of what Jeff wants.

“Sometimes.” Tyler’s fingers card through Tanner’s hair. “When he wants it like this, at least.” Tyler pulls one hand away from Tanner, reaches out, slides his fingers along the rise of Jeff’s hip, the hard cut of muscle. “But he really wants to be good for you.”

Jeff runs his thumb over Tanner’s bottom lip; Tanner’s tongue darts out, drags across the pad of Jeff’s finger. “And what about you?” he asks Tyler. “What do you want?”

“I want to watch you fuck him.” Tyler’s fingers slide down, down, joining Tanner’s on Jeff’s dick. “That’s what I want.”

Jeff groans, pushes up into the set of hands on him. He wants to ask if they’re sure, if this is what Tanner wants, too, when Tanner leans forward, mouths briefly at the head of Jeff’s dick before pulling off.

“We talked about it,” he says. “Ty and I. I told you. When there’s something we want, we…” He trails off, knocks Tyler’s hand away, then goes down on Jeff, mouth stretched wide as he swallows him down.

“Jesus.” The breath is punched right out of Jeff. Tyler’s hands holding firm on Jeff’s hips are the only reason he doesn’t pitch forward, fuck up into Tanner’s mouth. “Shit, Tanner, you-- _shit_.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Tyler asks. He runs one hand along the hollow of Tanner’s cheek and beams at Jeff.

It does – someone taught Tanner very well, that’s for sure. “Perfect,” Jeff agrees, “but.” He pushes almost reluctantly at Tanner’s shoulder. “If I’m fucking you, you need to stop.”

Tanner pulls away with a sad noise. A trail of spit drags from the tip of Jeff’s dick to Tanner’s lip. The sight alone is enough to make Jeff groan, squeeze tight at the base of his cock. “You need to--just. Go. Do something.”

Tyler, at least, gets what Jeff is trying to say, and collects Tanner, manhandling him onto the bed. He’s whispering something to Tanner, too low for Jeff to catch. Jeff pauses to watch the way Tyler pets Tanner’s hair, strips him out of the rest of his clothes.

For as much as Jeff knows that Tyler wants to direct this, wants to see Tanner go down for Jeff, he doesn’t mind standing back and watching them together for a minute. Tyler pushes Tanner down against the mattress, swats at him when he tries to grind down against it. Tanner gasps and tries to rear back to press into Tyler’s hand, chasing his touch, too.

Jeff blinks, shakes his head, then turns away to rummage through a set of drawers. Maybe another time, he’ll stand back and watch. There’s a different plan for today, though. “Here,” Jeff says, when he fishes out a bottle of lube from the drawers. He tosses it at Tyler, who deftly catches it. “You can--” Jeff gestures at Tanner, spread out on Jeff’s bed.

Tyler flips open the lube, wide grin spread across his face, and turns back to Tanner. He crawls between Tanner’s legs, nudging at his knees to push them apart further, then wastes no time in working Tanner open. Jeff has to bite down on his lip when he rolls a condom on, too taken by the red flush across Tanner’s skin and the way Tyler’s fingers disappear inside him.

“Alright,” Jeff says, coming to stand next to Tyler. He draws one hand up the back of Tanner’s thigh, fits his palm over the curve of his ass. “Alright, let me.”

Tyler grins, like he’s won something here. “Finally.” He slides his fingers out, pulling a needy groan from Tanner. “Hey,” Tyler says, swatting at him again. “Be good for Carts.” Tyler slides out of the way, making room for Jeff between Tanner’s spread legs. He smiles as he shifts up the bed, leaning up against the headboard to watch Jeff kneel behind Tanner.

Jeff almost wants to make Tanner wait, to see if he can get Tanner to beg even more shamelessly than he already is. He doesn’t have it in him, though, can’t even bear another moment of waiting himself. Jeff spreads one hand across Tanner’s hip, drawing him close. Jeff presses two fingers inside Tanner, listens to him sigh as Jeff crooks his fingers.

“Come on,” Tanner rasps. He’s turned to press his face against Tyler’s thigh. “Come on, please.” He pushes back into Jeff’s hand, wiggles a little. “Don't make me wait."

Jeff slides his fingers free, drawing a sigh from Tanner, who thrusts back against the air. "You're doing good," Jeff says as he takes his cock in hand, lines up. "Just behave."

He glances up the bed; Tyler's slowly stroking himself as Tanner's lips drag wetly across his thigh. Tyler’s free hand falls heavy on the back of Tanner's neck, and just as Tyler squeezes, holding Tanner in place, Jeff slides in. He takes his time, waiting for Tanner to relax enough to allow him to move.

"Good?" he asks, one hand stroking low across Tanner's back.

In response, Tanner pulls forward, then bucks back, tilting his hips as he pushes against Jeff.

"Okay." Jeff smiles. "I get it."

He fucks Tanner slower than Tanner seems to want, if the way he keeps trying to crash into Jeff is any sign. But he delights in the way Tanner’s body opens up for him, letting him in. With each thrust, Tanner grows more desperate. He tries to angle his hips up, meeting Jeff as he moves. Jeff knows this is as close as he's going to get when it comes to having control over the situation, so he's going to take his time with it.

"Hey," Jeff says, right as he nearly pulls out, barely holding himself inside. Tanner cries out, making a needy noise as he tries to wriggle backwards. “Hey, I want you to do something for me.”

Tanner’s not listening, it’s obvious with the way he keeps trying to push back into Jeff’s touch. So Jeff pulls out entirely, trying to get Tanner to focus. He reaches up, grips the back of Tanner’s neck, squeezes. “Tanner,” Jeff says sharply, and Tanner gasps and goes still; Tyler looks up, a calculating look flickering across his face. Jeff catches Tyler’s eye and grins.

“Tyler looks lonely, don’t you think?” Jeff slides his hand down Tanner’s spine, over his hip, to circle his fingers around Tanner’s cock.

Tanner doesn’t answer, just pants heavily, hips jerking forward into Jeff’s grip. Tyler’s own hand stills on his dick as he watches Jeff and Tanner.

“Hey,” Jeff says again, sliding his other hand up into Tanner’s hair to tug his head back. “It’s not fair that no one’s helping him.”

Tyler slowly scoots over on the bed, positioning himself in front of Tanner. He reaches out, drags his fingers across Tanner’s cheek, down to trace his jawline.

“Do you want to help Tyler?” Jeff asks. Finally, Tanner nods, a resolute jerk of his chin. Jeff loosens his grip on Tanner’s hair and Tanner shifts, putting more weight on one arm so he can reach up with the other, slide his fingers up Tyler’s leg, bump his fingers against Tyler’s own on his cock.

“Yeah, come on,” Tyler sighs out. He moves to position himself better, spreading his legs so Tanner can get in close. When Tanner gets his mouth on Tyler, Tyler groans. His eyes flicker closed as Tyler takes him in without hesitation.

Jeff lets Tanner find his rhythm -- as much for Tanner as for himself, because he can’t lie, watching Tanner swallow Tyler down is perhaps hotter than he’d anticipated. He needs a minute to compose himself, not that listening to the tiny, muffled moans that escape Tanner’s mouth is helping with that at all.

When Jeff spreads Tanner open again and eases in, Tanner pulls off of Tyler’s cock with a gasp.

“Don’t fucking stop,” Tyler nearly whines, hips jerking up against the air.

“Keep going,” Jeff says, fingers digging hard into Tanner’s hips. “I want to see you make him come, can you do that? Can you be good for me and Ty like that?”

Tanner exhales, low and shaky, then nods. “Yeah,” he breathes out, “yeah, I’ll be good.”

Tyler grins, cups Tanner’s cheek. It’s almost like something unspoken passes between them before Tanner pitches forward, goes down on Tyler with a renewed energy. Jeff fucks Tanner slow and lazy, fascinated by the moaning, choking noises Tanner’s making around Tyler’s cock.

“Pears,” Tyler says, urgently, but Tanner shakes his head, stays right where he is. “Jesus, Pears,” Tyler chokes out before he fucks up one last, desperate time into Tanner’s mouth before coming.

“Fuck,” Jeff rasps, jerking forward hard and fast. Tanner pulls off of Tyler and gasps for breath as Jeff drives into him.

When he’s collected himself, Tyler scoots down the bed, curling up against Tanner. He smooths sweat-slick hair back off of Tanner’s forehead with one hand. “Come on, Pears,” he says against Tanner’s ear. “You’re so close, aren’t you? You gonna ask him for it?” Tyler’s free hand strokes along Tanner’s hip, right above where Jeff’s hand’s clamped down. “Tell him what you need.”

Tanner doesn’t answer right away, just stutters and gasps in time with Jeff’s thrusts. “Please,” Tanner finally says, head thrown back, cheeks flushed. “Please, I need--” He bites down on his lower lip, cutting himself off, keeping the words inside.

“Pears,” Tyler whispers. He reaches over, runs his palm across Tanner’s dick; Tanner whines, shoves himself back against Jeff.

Tanner takes a deep breath, closes his eyes tight. “Please,” he says again. “Daddy, please, can I come?”

There’s absolute silence in the room; even Jeff misses a beat.

“Shit,” Jeff says as his hips stutter, his hand slips from Tanner’s hip for a second before he regains his balance.

“Oh, good,” Tyler croons, fingers curling around Tanner’s cock. “Good boy.”

“Okay. Okay, that’s-- Shit,” Jeff says hoarsely. “Shit, _fuck,_ Tanner, Jesus.” His fingers clench tight at Tanner’s hips. “Yeah, do it, come on, you’re -- fuck, you’re doing so good.”

Tyler helps Tanner out with a flick of his wrist; he’s practiced at this, Jeff can tell, with how quick he gets Tanner to moan and curse. “Hold on, Carts, he’s close,” Tyler murmurs.

“Someday,” Jeff bites out between panting breaths, “someday you’re not going to be the director here.” The idea comes out of him like it’s natural, like he just expects this to happen again, the three of them.

Tyler grins, all teeth. “Next time,” he says, and twists his hand on Tanner’s dick just so. Tanner cries out and comes, thrusting weakly forward into Tyler’s hand.

Next time. Shit, Jeff thinks. He really is in trouble, because as his hips snap forward, desperate, unstoppable, he’s absolutely certain that he wants this again.

“Pull out, Carts,” Tyler says, casual. “Do it on him, come on.”

Normally Jeff would balk at taking orders from Tyler, but the kid’s been calling the shots all night, so he pulls out. He barely gets the condom off before he’s done, striping Tanner’s back with come.

“Oh, shit,” Tyler breathes out, eyes wide as he stares at Tanner. He reaches out, pushes his fingers through Jeff’s come, rubbing it into Tanner’s skin. “Pears, you should see, you should see what you look like.”

Tanner tips his face to the side, beams up at Tyler. “Next time,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “Next time, maybe we’ll do you like this.”

Jeff flops bonelessly on the bed next to Tanner, presses a kiss to his shoulder. “You’re both gonna kill me,” he says. “Next time. Jesus.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” Tyler says, then laughs. “Right, Carts? Next time.”

Jeff sighs, reaches one arm across Tanner to rest his hand on Tyler’s side. “We’ll see,” he says finally, hiding his smile against Tanner’s shoulder. “Maybe if you’re both good.”  


**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Maybe If You’re Good (the Anyway You Want It remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10564686) by [teshumai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teshumai/pseuds/teshumai)




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